


You Could Move

by shalako



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dove/Gold is not intended but is certainly there if you squint, Emma and Gold don't like each other but that doesn't mean they're not both gay, Emma is not so firmly in the closet, Gen, Gold is firmly in the closet, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Solidarity, bi Emma, bi Gold, i havent watched this show in years so this takes place in season one, implied Emma/Regina, mild violence, thats only tenuously related to the fic but titles are hard, title is from a dear abby column, use of slurs, where a homophobe wrote in asking what to do about a gay couple in their neighborhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 21:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalako/pseuds/shalako
Summary: It's nighttime, the streets are practically deserted, Emma is on her way home from work, and Mr. Gold has just been attacked by a bunch of homophobes.





	You Could Move

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted or updated anything in a while so I decided to go through my Google Docs and just post all my stories, regardless of completion. Luckily I have at least a few that are actually...complete. This is one of them.

It was dark out, and Emma was lost in her thoughts, so when she first heard someone yell “Faggot!” she wasn’t sure who it was aimed at or who was doing the yelling. She put her coffee down, craned her neck out the car window, but didn’t see anybody on the street until she heard a loud crack, a scuffle, an angry yell, rapid footsteps slapping against concrete, fading away. On the right side of the street, she could just make out the three retreating backs of the offending groups; closer to the car, standing still, were Gold and his giant henchman, who seemed to be holding him back.

Emma sighed and got out of the car, jogging over. Under the streetlight, she thought she could make out blood on Gold’s face. He was snarling, outraged, and the giant was whispering something to him. They both quieted when Emma approached.

“Gold,” Emma said. “What’s the problem?”

He seemed to shrink a few inches, and Emma realized, startled, that his henchman had been holding him off the ground. Gold touched his nose with one hand, accepted his cane back from the henchman with another.

“Thank you, Dove,” he said. Then, to Emma, “I’m fine.”

She stepped closer, reached a hand up to his face. He went very still. “Your nose isn’t broken?” Emma asked. Gold took a breath through his mouth.

“Can’t tell,” he said. As gently as she could, Emma reached out and touched his nose. Gold flinched away, his eyes hardening, and Emma was about to argue with him when the giant -- Dove -- took him by the chin and checked Gold’s nose for a break. Gold stood still for the examination, his irritation muted.

“No broken bones,” Dove said eventually. He patted Gold on the shoulder and procured a pack of tissues from his pocket, handing it over. Gold took it after a brief hesitation and held one balled tissue to his nose. 

“Did you see who hit you?” Emma asked. She took her notepad from her pocket and opened it, semi-hoping that Gold would say no so she wouldn’t have to file a report. Gold and Dove looked at each other; Dove shrugged down at Gold, and Gold turned to Emma and passed the shrug on to her. “Got a description?” she asked.

“Not a very distinctive one,” said Gold.

“Well, just describe what happened.”

A pause. Gold shoved a bloody tissue in his pocket, checked if he was still bleeding, and then replaced it with a new one.

“I locked up the shop,” he said. “Stepped away from the door. Heard someone yell ‘faggot’ and got punched in the nose.”

Emma turned her gaze on Dove. He gave her a helpless look.

“I didn’t see much, either,” he said. “I caught Mr. Gold when they punched him, but I didn’t see the men who did it very clearly. I was…” He gestured at Gold futilely.

“Trying to hold him back,” said Emma, raising her eyebrows at Gold. He met her eyes without a hint of shame, trembling violently from the adrenaline rush. Emma remembered what he’d done to Moe with a shudder -- it didn’t seem like anyone in Storybrooke could be stupid enough to attack Mr. Gold, but it happened nonetheless. Fairly frequently, really.

“Did you drive here?” Emma asked. She gestured vaguely at Gold’s bloody nose. “I can give you a ride home.”

“No, th--”

“Thank you, we’d be delighted,” said Dove firmly. Gold shot him a dirty look that Dove pretended not to see, ushering Gold to Emma’s car. 

Emma got in the front seat without really paying attention to them; when she looked in the rearview mirror, she saw Gold sitting close to the window, staring out it with his legs crossed and his back straight, vibrating with unreleased rage. Dove took up most of the room in the backseat; he was slouching down to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, his knees digging into the back of Emma’s seat. Though he was clearly trying not to lean into Gold, it was almost impossible not to, especially since he seemed about three times wider than Gold was.

Gold didn’t seem to mind too much, at least. He pressed himself tight against the car door, glaring out the window, but he said nothing.

In the rearview mirror, Emma let her eyes rove down over Gold’s suit, the hot pink shirt and pocket square, and then up again to his feathery hair, still perfectly arranged. She thought about what the men had shouted before they punched him and tightened her grip on the steering wheel, putting the car in drive. She should say something. Her mind swept back over the girlfriends she’d had, went back years and years to the time she’d seen a gay man getting beat up outside a bar, and she’d started to walk past before thinking better and going back to help him. 

But what could she say to Gold? The only thing she could come up with was coming out to him, making a statement of solidarity, but what good would that do him? And why would Gold of all people even care? She had no evidence that he was actually gay, didn’t want to make a fool of herself trying to connect with him.

Still. It didn’t feel right to just stay silent. If she were in Gold’s position, faced with a silent police officer, she definitely wouldn’t feel … well, sympathized with. It felt obvious to her that Gold should know how she felt, but then again, he didn’t know she was queer any more than she knew about him. 

“Uh,” Emma started, but she was derailed by a quiet sniff. She looked in the rearview mirror again and saw Gold still glaring out the window; just as her eyes moved to Dove, who was looking at Gold in concern, Gold lifted a hand to hide his face. 

There was a long pause. Emma turned the radio up and told herself it was nothing. As she turned down the street leading to Gold’s neighborhood, there was another quiet sniff, and Emma hunched her shoulders, urging herself to say something.

“Gold,” she said, her hand hovering over the radio volume, “you okay?”

Gold didn’t respond. In the backseat, Dove reached out, covering Gold’s shoulder with his massive hand. He was still glaring and still shaking, but Emma didn’t think it was really from rage anymore.

“I’m fine,” said Gold roughly, shrugging off Dove’s hand. 

He was definitely starting to cry. Emma slowed the car and adjusted her hands on the wheel, cheeks burning with second-hand embarrassment. He’d been like this when she caught him beating up Moe, too. Angry, outraged, and violent, but with his voice thick. When she’d grabbed his arm and stopped him, he’d been shaking and crying, but he’d gotten control of himself so fast she sometimes thought the tears had been part of a dream.

“Look, Gold,” Emma said, clearing her throat, “don’t let it get to you, it -- it’s a small town, people are … close-minded.”

In the backseat, Dove put his hand on Gold’s shoulder again, and this time Gold wordlessly turned toward him and hid his face in Dove’s coat. Emma swallowed hard and turned her eyes back to the road.

“It sucks,” she said, “but most people are -- you know, not  _ total  _ assholes when you come out to them. They get over it.”

Gold said nothing, and Dove just stared blankly into space, leaving Emma to rethink her words and hear exactly how banal they were. If Gold cared what people thought of him -- and he did, of course he did -- he was very good at hiding it, and reassurances that people might still like him probably … weren’t the best way to go. Especially considering that people  _ didn’t  _ like him, regardless of sexuality. 

Emma wondered if maybe it was safer for Gold to stay in the closet.

She pulled up to his house and parked the car, leaving the radio on to cover the occasional muffled sniffs from the backseat. Neither Gold nor Dove moved for a long time. Eventually, Dove reached around Gold to open the door and Gold shifted a little, seeming to notice for the first time that the car was stopped. Emma didn’t get a glimpse at his face as Dove ushered him out. 

She watched them disappear up the walkway, then turned in her seat and saw Dove’s nearly-empty pack of tissues lying on the seat. A long sigh ripped its way through her throat.

She put the car in drive, thought for a moment, and headed for Regina’s house.


End file.
